


whiskey blues

by orphan_account



Category: Super Junior
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-04
Updated: 2012-08-04
Packaged: 2017-11-11 10:36:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/477626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eeteuk is pretty sure Kyuhyun is trying to seduce him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jungsoo is pretty sure that Kyuhyun is trying to seduce him. Traditionally, he often misses the subtle cues from pretty girls, extra sweeps from his head to his toes from eyes heavy with makeup, the flicker of mascara lashes across pale cheeks, the curl of glittery lip gloss, delicate fingers painted the lightest shade of peachy pink that cover a giggle. But Kyuhyun doesn’t style his hair this or way or that way and he doesn’t pitch his voice soft and gentle and breathy, doesn’t look at Jungsoo with hooded eyes from under a fringe of hair.

 

At first it was simple, easy, _ninja_ , Jungsoo thinks with the faint edge of hysteria; Kyuhyun leans on him more, tucks his head in the space between Jungsoo’s collarbone and the underside of his jaw, curls his fingers into the loops of Jungsoo’s pants and slides his fingertips along the artificially frayed seams of his pockets and then smiles, sweet and quiet and warm when Jungsoo turns with questioning eyes.

 

“No seriously,” he tells Youngwoon, chewing his lips bloody, “I’m not imagining it, it’s like luring me in, Youngwoon, he’s _insidious_. Youngwoon pats him absent-mindedly on the knee and presses chapstick to his palm, beeswax sticky and yellow like summer. Jungsoo flings the tube to the side and falls against his side in dramatic distress.

 

“Occupied,” Jungsoo shouts, irritated, and doesn’t spare the intrusion a single glance, leans to grab his towel and sling it around his hips, dragging tired fingernails through his hair, already starting to dry in loose rough tangles. He frowns as he continues to feel cold air tickle his ribs, making him shiver and shake, goosebumps rising like a pebbled path on his skin, and turns, ready to snap at whoever had left without closing the door, and feels the words die on his tongue and slink back down his throat. Kyuhyun is standing there, soft faded sweatpants and thin worn t-shirt with holes chewed in the hem of the sleeves, messy hair and wide eyes. Jungsoo swallows hard, and Kyuhyun’s eyes flick to the bob in his throat, fingers white around the doorknob. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs, eyes sliding up to meet his gaze, and Jungsoo looks back at him steadily, searches flat black pupils, suddenly reminded of teasing words _dead eyes, maknae_ and Kyuhyun’s sheepish smile, his outbreak of the giggles as he messes up scene after scene, how _young_ he looks, standing there in old clothes and sleepy eyes.

“Yah, magnae,” he says, faint emphasis on the second word, smiling casually,dissmissive “I’ll be out in a second.” There is silence behind him, and then the click of the latch. Jungsoo sighs, and turns back to the sink, shoving at the tap and splashing water onto his face. When he comes back up, wiping at his eyes, Kyuhyun’s face is behind him, expressionless in the steam of the mirror. Jungsoo freezes again, and sees Kyuhyun shift behind him, a fuzzy blur with no distinct outline, extending an arm out, fingers stopping just short of Jungsoo’s back, faint heat on his scars like barely there kisses.

“Hyung,” Kyuhyun breathes, and his murmur whispers past Jungsoo’s cheek and pools on the mirror. Jungsoo watches it go by, uses the corner of his eye to watch Kyuhyun watching him watch the condensation drip past the edge of the mirror and splash into the grout of slippery tiles.

There’s a bang as another door slams elsewhere in the apartment and the echo of light conversation, and Kyuhyun jerks in surprise, overbalancing. His palm presses suddenly flat against Jungsoo’s spine, a searing brand that makes him snap upright, flinching away. Kyuhyun stumbles backwards, stammering, and flees, leaving the door swinging gently back and forth, the draft swirling around the room in indistinct whispers.

 

 

Jungsoo is not the mother of Super Junior, no matter how much they all like to pretend he is, no matter how much _he_ likes to pretend he is, and sometimes it frustrates him, when the fans clamour that he is not doing his job, that he should control his members, sometimes he is resentful because they are grown men, every one. 

“Kyuhyun is a grown man,” Jungsoo informs his ceiling, and there is an answering chuckle from his doorway. Jungsoo clothes his eyes in resignation, recognizing both the voice and the fact that this would be his life. He can hear the creak of his floorboards and the sound of Kyuhyun’s feet, muffled by his carpet, the sound of his breathing and the rustle of clothing as he settles into the chair Jungsoo keeps by the bed.

“I am a grown man,” Kyuhyun says, and there is confidence in his voice but a waiver underneath that makes him sound younger than he’s trying to be. Jungsoo’s face twists involuntarily, and Kyuhyun falters, then gathers his courage. When he speaks again Jungsoo can feel the words in his hair.

“I am a grown man,” Kyuhyun says again, and tilts his head until their noses are touching, breathing quietly. The ends of his hair tickle Jungsoo’s face, and their lips are so close together that if Kyuhyun licked his lips his tongue would drag across Jungsoo’s.

Jungsoo opens his eyes and has a moment where he wonders how they ever could have thought Kyuhyun had dead eyes before he closes his own again and rises up, abdomen muscles trembling, and slips his tongue into Kyuhyun’s mouth, traces the outline of his teeth before twisting to slide along Kyuhyun’s tongue. Jungsoo opens his eyes halfway to watch Kyuhyun’s brow furrow and his eyelids flicker, and then they’re closed again as Kyuhyun presses him back against the mattress, settling on top of him hipbones to hipbones.

Kyuhyun hums in his throat, sending vibrations up through Jungsoo’s tongue, and breaks the kiss to nip lightly at the underside of his jaw, pushes the collar of his shirt down to scrape his teeth across Jungsoo’s chest. Jungsoo pulls him back up, panting.

“You’ll stretch it out,” he murmurs breathlessly, and Kyuhyun laughs, helps him slide it off and then makes a show of folding it neatly and placing it aside, centered and straight-edged on the seat of the chair. He fusses with it, carefully ignoring everything else, grinning, until Jungsoo grumbles in irritation and pull the smirk to his own lips.

Kyuhyun doesn’t show the same consideration for his own shirt, yanking it up and off with one arm and tossing it to the floor. Jungsoo watches it fall to the floor and admires the way Kyuhyun’s clothes rumple beside his bed. Kyuhyun pulls his attention back by pulling his belt from his pants, tongue in his belly button and fingers on his zip. Jungsoo props himself on his elbows, watches Kyuhyun’s smirk as he wiggles Jungsoo’s pants off and sits up fully to undo his own, slowly, teasingly.

“You put on a good show,” he says, and his voice is three octaves lower, rougher. Kyuhyun’s smirk widens, dark promises in the way his tongue drags along the edges of his teeth. Jungsoo sits up fully, slides his hands around Kyuhyun’s hips and into his back pockets until his fingertips hit the bottom seams, pushing them down and then stopping short, gaping. Kyuhyun isn’t wearing underwear, and after a moment of pressure curling tight low in his belly, Jungsoo just laughs, leans back on the bed with his hands behind his head and watches Kyuhyun kick off his pants and reach into a pocket before dropping them to the side, shifts to let a hand wander down from his collarbone to his cock, fingernails dragging as he watches Kyuhyun’s breath hitch from the coolness of the lube on his hand on his cock, watches his eyes darken from Jungsoo’s own show. 

Kyuhyun crawls up his body, cock bobbing hard against Jungsoo’s inner thigh, and bites under his ear, licks back along his jawline to his mouth as his fingers slide in slow circles up Jungsoo’s thigh and into him. Jungsoo nips at Kyuhyun’s tongue and wraps his own hand around Kyuhyun’s cock, twisting his wrist in a motion that makes Kyuhyun’s fingers curl suddenly as he shudders. Jungsoo moans, and tugs at Kyuhyun’s hips, pressure tight enough he knows he’ll be able to lick at the spaces between bruises in the morning.

Kyuhyun wraps his hand around Jungsoo’s and drags it up and down, once, twice, three times, eyes half-lidded, fingers curling and twisting inside Jungsoo, and then pulls his hand off, leans down and drops his head in for a kiss as he slides in, mouth going slack as Jungsoo gasps with his teeth tight around Kyuhyun’s tongue.

Kyuhyun starts with long, slow, easy rolls of his hips, until Jungsoo’s eyes are clenched close and his fist is around his cock and then he pulls all the way out and in again, grinning into Jungsoo’s neck and enjoying the white knuckled hand buried in his hair. Jungsoo uses the grip to yank his head up and suck at his neck, feels Kyuhyun’s pulse thump against his tongue in time with his thrusts.

It’s not long before Jungsoo laves his tongue across his neck one last time, tasting copper, and drops his head back to the bed, Kyuhyun following him to lean his forehead at rest on his shoulder as he starts to lose his rhythm as he gets closer, bucking erratically and gasping. He jerks one last time, head back and muscles straining, and Jungsoo’s head rolls to the side to see Kyuhyun in the vanity mirror against the other wall, the way his eyes are clenched tight, the sweat on the ends of his hair and his teeth sinking into his lower lip, making it redder and fuller.

Kyuhyun falls back against him, shuddering and twitching, lips in Jungsoo’s hair and his pants loud in Jungsoo’s hear, and then a moan, long and spent and low, _hyyuungg_ like rough honey, and Jungsoo spasms up into him as he comes.


	2. if I could write you a song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyuhyun is a bit of a tease.

_Hyung,_ Kyuhyun says again, muscles trembling, and Eeteuk is looking at his shoulder blades arching from the smooth tan of his back in the mirror on the dresser, tracing the lines of Kyuhyun’s body with his eyes and watching the beads of sweat run down his back and pool against the sheets.

 

And then Eeteuk jerks back to reality as the van makes a sudden, jarring stop, the driver shouting in a mix of anger and surprise at the car that’s now in front of them. Eeteuk flinches, eyes clenching shut and adrenaline flooding as he remembers bursting glass and the screaming tear of metal, and the smell of burning rubber rises dark and acrid in his nose.

When he pulls himself together enough to calmly survey the rest of the passengers, his gaze falls first to Kyuhyun, who’s eyes are wide, skin abruptly two shades paler, looking straight at Eeteuk for the first time in quite a while. In his peripheral vision Eeteuk can just see Siwon shifting so the fingers of the hand slung casually across Heechul’s seat just brush under his ear.

Eeteuk’s eyes flicker back to Kyuhyun, and the moment hangs still in his pupils. Kyuhyun’s fringe is brushing across his face and casting shadows in his eyes, and his eyelashes are dark and smoky against his face as they brush his skin once, twice three times, eyelids in stop motion flicker, each lash touching his face, slow motion.

The driver turns a corner, grumbling, accelerates smoothly, and the moment passes. The kick of the gears shifting makes Eeteuk blink, and time snaps back into pace. Heechul shrugs off Siwon’s arm with a barrage of nasty snark, and Kyuhyun turns to Yesung and Ryeowook, hands coming up to gesture while he talks.

Eeteuk leans his head on the cold glass of the window and watches Kyuhyun’s fingers flicker in the space between them.

 

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Kangin says, “but you’re really becoming a creeper.” Eeteuk sighs. For Kangin that was practically tactful.

Kangin turns halfway away from the television, towards Eeteuk, and offers him the remote. Eeteuk settles next to him and absent mindedly clicks through the channels, finally settling on some drama he’s right on the verge of recognizing. They watch in silence for a few moments, and the girl onscreen is sitting in a plastic looking hospital chair, weeping for her wayward lover, before Eeteuk breaks the quiet.

“I always thought it’d be you,” he says quietly, not looking away from the screen. Kangin mutes the television, fingers fiddling between the buttons on the remote, nails tapping on the black plastic battery compartment. Eeteuk turns to him finally, and sees the silent reflected colours from the television move in Kangin’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Jungsoo whispers, and entwines his hand into a larger one, solid and warm and utterly familiar.

“Me too,” Youngwoon says finally.

Jungsoo takes a deep breath in and holds it, and everything becomes quieter. He can hear his heart and the feedback hum from the television and the thump of Youngwoon’s pulse in his own wrist and the world is still in warm soft colours.

Eeteuk lets out a lengthy exhale and Kangin unmutes the television, sound blaring out loud in sudden clarity, and his thumb brushes across Eeteuk’s knuckles in comfort and in friendship.

 

“Kyuhyun,” Heechul announces at breakfast, “if one more single piece of cereal comes anywhere near me, there will be serious repercussions.” Kyuhyun and Sungmin both spare him a glance from where they’ve been throwing food at each other and catching it in their mouths, giggling.

“Don’t you have a schedule?” Sungmin asks.

“I’m being fashionably late,” Heechul sneers, but tosses his utensils towards the sink and ambles off towards Hankyung’s room. Hankyung’s head comes up out of his rice bowl and he blinks down the hallway like a chipmunk.

“Wha-” he says, then swallows and trips his way out of his seat, “those are my clothes,” he shouts, tromping down his hallway, “stay _out_ Heechul-ah, I’m serious, ah—not those.” His voice, now a resigned whine, fades as the door clicks shut, and Sungmin shrugs, turning to his phone.

“Hyung was just jealous,” Kyuhyun says in an odd tone, and he’s looking at Eeteuk.

 

The next few days are a blurry trek of more of the same, Kyuhyun whispering into the curve of Donghae’s ear and giggling behind Sungmin’s hand and playing his DS at a counter while Ryeowook cooks around him, beaming, bent over a laptop with Heechul and slinging a towel around his neck, just back from a dance session with Eunhyuk.

Eeteuk grits his teeth and goes to sleep early and wakes up late, takes his meals at odd times, broods. Kangin takes to lying on his bed with him, throwing a tennis ball at the wall and talking about remember whens and what ifs and dreams and wishes and could have beens. Heechul presents him with a bottle of cheap black nailpolish and corners him, brandishing scissors, demanding Eeteuk at least sport the look if he’s going to act the part.

“You’re being completely overdramatic,” he hisses furiously, “and, and, a—arghh,” he throws up his hands and stalks off, frustration in the movement of his body.

 

Eeteuk is walking down a hallway, heading to his car for a lazy afternoon and maybe lunch, when he can just catch a strain of music, floating vocals—he’d know his bandmates’ voices anywhere. Kyuhyun is sitting at a piano, one hand resting gently on the keys, not playing, with a pencil stub in the other hand, tip resting on a page of notebook paper. Even before Kyuhyun had stopped becoming just a last minute addition to team, Eeteuk had been struck speechless by his voice alone.

Kyuhyun is currently singing something smooth and low and just on the edge of haunting, and his eyes flash surprise when the wooden doorframe creaks under the pressure of Eeteuk’s fingers.

“Hey,” he says, and Eeteuk thinks it’s the first time he’s spoken directly to him since that night. He also thinks _hey his tongue feels just the same_ , and that’s when he hears the fading jangle of the piano and feels Kyuhyun’s slim hips against his hands and then he thinks ow, oh, _oh_ , and they tumble inelegantly to the floor, Kyuhyun rolling them until he’s straddling Eeteuk, hands on his chest and head thrown back as he grinds down, hard and slow.

“Ngrhg,” Eeteuk says, and fumbles at Kyuhyun’s jeans, which are so worn and faded soft that he can stick his hand down them without fussing with the zipper or button. Kyuhyun moans, low and almost dirty, and bucks into his hand, falling down until he needs to brace his hand on the floor, sucking across Eeteuk’s jaw and downwards.

Eeteuk hooks a leg around Kyuhyun’s hips and pulls him closer, flicking his wrist in and then out before pulling his hand out of Kyuhyun’s pants altogether. Kyuhyun growls, and grabs Eeteuk by the wrists, shoving them to the ground above Eeteuk’s head. Eeteuk laughs, not his loud annoying laugh but something elusive and odd to his own ears. Kyuhyun’s eyes go pitch dark, and he switches until he’s holding his wrists down with one hand, the other undoing his pants and shoving them down, taking his boxers with them and kicking his legs in frustration, his shoes blocking him from being able to get completely out of them.

“Problem?” Eeteuk asks lazily, lounging casually on the ground, not fighting against Kyuhyun’s loose hold. He’s smirking and his hair, grown long, shifts gently on his throat as his adam’s apple bobs. Kyuhyun growls, again, and crawls roughly up Eeteuk’s body, yanks his arms down and slams his knees onto his wrists, leaning all his weight down on him before shifting his weight back and looking down.

“No,” he says idly, and then he drags the nails of one hand down his throat and along his collarbone, crossing his breastbone and circling down, pressure hard enough red lines appear in their wake, slides a loose fist up and down his cock, arches his back, drags his tongue on the edges of his teeth, traces the shape of his lips.

Eeteuk’s mouth goes dry and he swallows hard, squirms. “My hands are falling asleep,” he says hoarsely, “you’re cutting of my circulation.” Kyuhyun pauses, and tilts his head down, somehow managing to look up at Eeteuk from above.

“Are you bored?” he asks. Eeteuk tries hard to look cool and uncaring, but he can’t tear his eyes away from Kyuhyun’s hand moving on his cock, his thumb sweeping over the head, and when Kyuhyun slips two fingers into his mouth and hollows his cheeks he whimpers and bucks his hips up, trying to rub against Kyuhyun. Kyuhyun laughs lowly and smirks, dropping his hands to the floor above Eeteuk’s head. 

“You need something to keep you busy,” Kyuhyun says, tongue flicking at the shell of Eeteuk’s ear as he talks, and he slips his index and thumb finger from his mouth into Eeteuk’s, thumb pressing on his tongue and finger sliding along his gums.

“Maybe so,” Eeteuk says, and pushes himself, skin burning as he drags them against the rough fabric, just far up enough he can take Kyuhyun into his mouth, drag his tongue around the back and swallow down, pressure and heat and Eeteuk strains to bob his head, fighting a gag as Kyuhyun thrusts down into his mouth, inadvertently deep throating him. Kyuhyun makes a desperate, needy sound, teeth in his lower lip, and his hips stutter uncontrollably, jumping off Eeteuk’s wrists. Eeteuk brings his hands up and sits up halfway, pushing Kyuhyun into a kneeling position, releasing him with a soft wet noise.

“No,” Kyuhyun whines, trying to knock Eeteuk’s hands away and get closer, and Eeteuk rises up on his own knees, one hand pulling down the collar of Kyuhyun’s shirt so he can get at his neck and his chest and his nipples, the other making quick work of his own belt.

“Where’s your bag?” Eeteuk asks, still pumping Kyuhyun’s cock with one hand, his own bobbing against his navel. Kyuhyun blinks at him, eyes hazy, thrusting into the curve of Eeteuk’s hand, one hand reaching out to brush across the head of Eeteuk’s cock, and when his fingers bring a drop of Eeteuk’s precome up to his mouth and his tongue flickers out and then in, his own words die in his throat.

He reaches out, fumbling for Kyuhyun’s messenger bag, worn soft, and pulls it towards them. “Wha—” Kyuhyun manages to get out, before Eeteuk shoves him the ground, softening his head’s landing with his hand before easing him onto the messenger bag, face first. Kyuhyun starts to rise up, starts to try and turn, and then shudders, twisting in place as Eeteuk slides spit wet fingers into him, rubbing and stretching and moving, searching for the spot that makes Kyuhyun go boneless, pushing back into Eeteuk’s hand as he slides farther down on the ground.

Eeteuk removes his fingers entirely, and Kyuhyun sobs in need, head buried in his arms, shaking. Eeteuk pulls his hips up until his ass is off the ground, in the air, and then takes hold of his hips again, pulling him towards him as he thrusts in. Kyuhyun shouts wordlessly, and Eeteuk pauses, pressed all along Kyuhyun’s back, and brushes kisses up and down his spine, finally finally _finally_ licks at his shoulder blades, and then smiles into the back of his neck as he moves out and in again, setting a pace that makes him pant and gasp. Kyuhyun writhes under him, shoving back hard into each thrust and making rough sounds deep in his throat. Eeteuk reaches one hand around and covers Kyuhyun’s mouth.

“Ssshh,” he hisses, “someone could hear,” and Kyuhyun shudders, muscles twitching under his skin. Eeteuk pauses, and Kyuhyun growls, nipping at his fingers until he starts to move again.

“I didn’t even close the door,” Eeteuk whispers, and Kyuhyun jumps like an electric wire. 

“Anyone could see, anyone could walk in,” Kyuhyun lips feel wet and wanton on Eeteuk’s hand, and Eeteuk’s hips have started to move erratically, losing his rhythm as he starts to lose control.

“I’m close,” Kyuhyun pants, and his voice breaks on the last word, “close so close please yes, come _on_.”

“No,” Eeteuk says, “ _you_ come, you miserable teasing whore, you-” And Kyuhyun arches almost in two, spasming and gasping, white liquid dripping onto the floor. His body slides down, limp and spent, until he’s lying flush on the floor, breathing harshly.

Eeteuk bites down on the nape of neck, to the side and just below his ear, and goes still, head thrown back and muscles straining, before slumping back on top of Kyuhyun, thrusting a few more times, slow and lazy, before sliding limp out of him and rolling on the floor, resting on his back and trying to regain his breath.

Kyuhyun smiles at him like a cat that just got very high quality cream, eyes slitted and lips swollen. “I’m writing a song to sing with Yesung-hyung.”

“The hell you are,” says Eeteuk.


End file.
